A Brave New World
by L.Medora
Summary: Over a hundred years after the life and death of the Seeker Richard, a new evil has arisen along with a new hero. The story as told from the eyes of the new Seeker's confessor in their quest for peace.
1. Chapter 1

The theory is that the westlands, the side of the boundary that is cut off from magic, morphed into a realm of its own so that it became a world, and the other side became a world, as well. Over the course of hundreds of years, while one side remained the same, mostly unchanging due to the usage of magic, the other grew into a world where over six billion ungifted reside. Of course, there are the rare few who are born with magic having not been descended from it. In westland history, those were hunted in every which way which is how the Salem Witch Hunt came to be.

It came to pass that my family moved to the westlands after the downfall of the house of Rahl. But of course, the only reason _I _know about all this is because of my kooky grandfather who rambles on day and night about silly things like magic and prophecies. As a child I would listen to them all the time, but as I grew older, life began to wear on me and his stories became only a lullaby.

On one of his visits, I found myself out in the rain at six in the morning purchasing his tea because I knew that without it, he would throw a fit. Walking the streets of down town Seattle is dangerous at such an hour, especially when the only available help would be indoors due to the weather. So I ran as quickly as I could, through the dark alleyways that would take me there fastest. I reached the shop I had been looking for and stepped into the toasty warmth and out of the freezing rain.

"Morning, Lydia," said the man behind the counter, looking up. Jared was part of the native American tribe nearby and ran the shop with his sister. Ever since I could remember, he was the only one who sold grandfather's tea. "Is Marcus back in town?"

"It's only been three months," I laughed, rolling my eyes. "The usual, please."

Jared stood up and went over to one of the shelves to grab a large vase and a smaller wooden box. With a small cup he measured the herbs within the vase and poured them into the box which he handed to me. I gave him my ten dollars and waited for my change.

"You know, I really wish you'd take the safer way home," he mused. "The gang activity has been picking up lately. You know, just last week they found a family murdered in their home? Apparently the father was a gambler…three innocent children."

I shuddered and closed my eyes, willing myself not to picture the horrible thought. "I think I'll be alright. It's not like I've ever done anything to anger them."

"Doesn't matter. These people do horrible things because they think they're above the law…" I could tell just from his tone of voice how much he hated gangs and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He half smiled up at me. "Get home safe, Lydia."

"I will, promise," I said.

I hid the little box from the rain in the folds of my thick jacket as I walked out of the shop. I quickly started running back the way I had come, shaking and shivering in the rain. A few times I slipped where the rain had become ice, but I mostly managed to stay on my feet.

After a few minutes, I couldn't shake a horrible feeling in my gut that had nothing to do with the rain. Every few minutes I began looking over my shoulder. Then I began to see them. The tall boys in heavy sweaters that mostly concealed their identities. At first there was only one, then two, three or four more to the point where I was on a mad dash for my house.

I cut corners everywhere I went, not wanting to waste a moment. I had nearly reached my street just beyond an alley but when I tried to climb the stairs out, one of the gang blocked my path. I turned to go around the building, but his friends had caught up with me. I was trapped in that little alleyway with hungry animals advancing towards me.

"Who you running from?" one of the gang asked, skipping over to me as though we were old friends.

"Please, stay away," I said as loudly as I could muster. Laughter rippled through the boys.

"What, you don't want to play with us?" asked another. "Because we decided to start a whole game with your family."

Threatening my family was majorly stepping over a line.

"You ever heard of the game hide-and-seek? Well, we're going to hide you, and they're gonna seek!"

"You won't touch me," I growled in a way that would normally impress me.

The boy leaned in close and I leaned away as far as I could. "Watch me."

They all attacked at once, grabbing my arms and legs so I had no hope of fighting, but whenever I got a chance to, they hit me. While I was restrained, the boy who wasn't holding a part of my body hit me over and over on my face, my stomach, and wherever else. I could taste the blood as the impact sites began to swell. I was hurt badly and they weren't relenting.

I finally managed to break an arm free which immediately shot out to grab the throat of the one hurting me. With a loud scream, I began to choke the life out of him which received more punches to the stomach, but I never let go.

But then everything shifted. It felt as though something inside of me snapped and from the wound poured a great energy which was unleashed upon the boy I had grasped. My eyes suddenly flew open and I saw that the boy's had gone a demonic black. When the flow of energy returned to me and the snap resealed itself, the boy fell to his knees while all his friends ran away in their cowardice.

"Command me, mistress," the boy whispered.

"I want to go home," I choked through the blood.

I felt my body being lifted into shaking arms. The boy carried me out of the alleyway and walked to my street and right up to my door where he rang the bell. I heard the door being answered and surprised gasps and shouts. Then the boy carried me into my house, setting me down on the soft couch in the living room.

"Lydia," came my grandfather's voice. "Lydia, can you understand me?"

I nodded weakly.

"Lydia, have you confessed this man?"

I opened my mouth to ask what in the world he was talking about, but only blood gurgling came out. I felt my jacket being searched and the tea box being pulled out. A part of my working mind was angry that he was worried about his tea at a time like this. But that part was quickly batted away by the horrifying pain.

After what seemed to be an eternity, a warm liquid poured into my mouth, instantly soothing the pain all over my body, even on the surface. My eyes flew open as all the damage was healed and I was put back into perfect condition. I looked over at my grandfather who was holding a cup of steaming tea with a toothy grin.

"What is that?" I asked, still catching my breath.

"Haven't you been listening to my stories?" he asked. "The world around you is not as it appears. Not anymore, anyway. I'm afraid you have a _much_ higher destiny—one that lies far beyond Seattle."

I looked over to the boy who was smiling as though he had not just beat me senselessly.

"What did I do to him?" I demanded. My grandfather got out of his chair and went to the kitchen.

"You know, after all these years, I was beginning to think my daughter gave birth to a pristinely ungifted. It never occurred to me that you would be granted the powers of a confessor. Do you remember the stories I told you about them?" he asked.

"Yes. they have the ability to take the free will of anyone with a single touch. All but a select few were killed just before the downfall of Rahl and there are still very few. Are you trying to say that I'm one of _them_?"

"Keep going," he ordered, stirring his tea.

"In a time of great evil, the spirits grant us a Seeker of truth and entwined with his fate is a wizard, a confessor, and the ultimate downfall of his greatest enemy. Again, what does this have to do with me?"

"On the midlands side of the boundary, that great evil has arisen," my grandfather said. He poured more tea into a cup and steadily carried it over and handed it to me. "He was the student of one of Darken Rahl's most gifted adversary—a wizard of the first order by the name of Giller. Through Magic, he has hidden himself for hundreds of years, gaining more and more powerful. Not he has taken the throne in the house of Rahl which gives him control of a powerful army and all of D'hara. Eighteen years ago, the Seeker of truth was born. I have been his wizard, training him to become a wise young man who will be a hero in the coming years. I feel he is ready to face his enemies.

"As for you, it is written in the halls of prophecy that none of the few confessors there are left will aid the Seeker. There are less than one hundred sisters left and their numbers are still dwindling. So fate chose the perfect you woman to be given the magic of a confessor to aid the Seeker in his quest and defeat the greatest evil. Lydia, my child, you have been chosen."

I frowned, I gaped, and I smirked. But an uncontrollable rage burned within me.

"So, I just got beaten up in an alley a block away from this house and you're telling me more stories. That's…that's great, grandfather, just great." I stood up angrily and began pacing through the living room.

"But you still wonder how my stories can still be a lie while you have so clearly confessed a man?" he guessed.

"I didn't confess him!" I hissed.

"Really?" he challenged. "Order him to do something—anything."

I went to stand in front of the boy who was staring up at me lovingly. "What is the worst thing you have ever done?"

"My friends and I beat up someone who lost a bet with us and we did the same to his family…to the point where it would've been merciful of us to kill them."

"Before today, did you ever feel sorry for it?"

"Oh, all the time, mistress. But I wouldn't dare let my friends see otherwise they would have done the same to me!"

I nodded slowly. "I want you to go to the police and turn yourself in. Tell them every criminal offense you have committed and who helped you. Accept your punishment willingly."

He looked down at his hands. "Yes, confessor."

I watched, dumbfounded as he stood up and left the house.

"First day on the job and you're already ridding the world of evil!" my grandfather said, clapping his hands.

"If I'm a confessor, what does that make you?" I suddenly asked.

"Why, I am the Seeker's wizard!" he laughed. "And I think it is about time you meet the man who is going to save the midlands! But first we must dress accordingly…"

He motioned for me to follow as he walked to the guest bedroom. He went to the large trunk he always brought with him on his visits and opened it up. From it he pulled a large, darkly colored robe with many designs. Then he pulled out a long, white dress with a hood and lace up corset.

"Is that a confessor's robe?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes. I have been preparing for this day ever since the birth of the Seeker. Now, you change and pack only your most valuable possessions, preferably something with sentimental value. If you are ready to accept your duty, you may not be able to see your parents until the evil has been defeated."

I was torn. In three years, I would've graduated college and become something in this world. But apparently, I already was something in another world. I had no friends to leave behind, no one except Jared and my parents. But I never really wanted to live in this world where there is so much daily evil. In the midlands, the only evil was capable of being defeated and I would help do it. So I looked into my grandfather's proud eyes and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Apparently my grandfather had to go off on his own in order to complete his "personal matters." He left me with a set of directions on a map and only what I had on my back. I'd packed only one change of clothes and a few pictures of my family among other such things. We had explained to my parents what happened who were surprisingly not surprised. Apparently my grandfather had been telling his stories longer than I expected. But as I walked along the dreamy field of the midlands near where the boundary used to be, where we traveled through, I saw that the stories were so much more than that.

I eventually reached a small village, like on the map. All the people whispered and stared as I walked by. A few people went as far as falling to their knees. I started to regret wearing my new confessor's robes my first day on the job. But I was proud of them. According to the stories, the robes had been passed down from the mother confessor Kahlan Amnell herself. She had been the confessor to the Seeker Richard. I liked to think that a part of her traveled with me in the soft fabric of the robes, making me stronger.

Just beyond the village I found the little house atop a hill. Looking up, I saw a young man working in a garden which ran down all sides of the hill apart from the pathway with deep ruts from horse drawn carts. I walked up the pathway, easily making it to the top and straight up to the man who was working without crushing his plants. He had a strong build, wearing only his pants. He had blond hair that hung around his face and bright blue eyes.

"Are you Warren?" I asked. He looked up at me and smiled when he saw the robes.

"You must be Lydia," he said merrily. "Marcus told me all about you!"

He dropped his tools and ran over, pulling me into a tight hug. Then he held me at arm's length, looking me up and down.

"I always knew that his granddaughter would be the confessor," he said. "From all the stories he's told me, you're perfect for the job!"

"So you are the Seeker?" I asked him.

"Yes, and you're my confessor. It's so wonderful to finally meet you! Please, come inside. We have a lot to discuss."

He led me to the inside of his home where I was sure that my grandfather had been. Every shelf had some kind of containers, wooded or glass that emitted the strong smell of his tea leaves. The place was only as decorative as a single bed, a dining table, and two chairs by a darkened fireplace. Warren gave me one of the chairs and sat in the one opposite me. I couldn't help being slightly intimidated by his cheerfulness which was more pure than I was accustomed to.

"Tell me, confessor, how long ago were you granted your abilities?" Warren asked eagerly.

"Less than a week," I said. "I really didn't know what was in store for me until…I was attacked. My attacker was the first, and so far, the only person I've ever confessed. But from my grandfather's stories, I know everything there is to know about this world. It used to be that I couldn't fall asleep without dreaming about the great Seeker Richard and the Mother confessor, always on a new adventure."

Warren smiled and folded his hands.

"I suppose the next Seeker will be dreaming about our adventures together."

I nodded and looked down at my hands, remembering the feeling of confession. I wondered how many more people's souls I would destroy for this Seeker. Twenty…a thousand? I supposed it would take some getting used to—doing anything to help the Seeker on his quest. I just hoped destiny didn't make a mistake in thinking I was strong enough for the job. But hopefully there was something that would help light my way, as grandfather said it would.

"May I see the sword of truth?" I asked. "I've heard so much about it…it would mean so much to know that it is not just a story."

He leaned back and sighed heavily.

"Marcus hasn't named me yet. Until then, not even I have been able to hold it. But I know what it will be like. Marcus has given me many dreams about it and through them I know the sword better than my own soul. And now that I have my confessor, I can be named and the people of the midlands will have their hero. Well, now all we need is Marcus…"

"He said he would be back in a day or two. Until then I'll protect you—but I'm afraid I won't be too good at it."

"_I_ have faith in you, Lydia." He reached out to take my hand, but I flinched away on instinct. "Sorry, I forgot that confessors aren't used to being touched. I can't imagine how hard it is to hold in such incredible power all the time. I do not envy your burden, but hopefully the present company will ease your pain."

"Thank you, Seeker. But there is something I must ask of you. It's essential if I am ever going to be of use to you."

"Anything," he said.

"I've never learned to fight with weapons, but I'm sure Marcus has taught you."

* * *

The clashing of metal rang out in the still night air as the fight wore on relentlessly. I stabbed, sliced, and cut at every opportunity, spinning to avoid Warren's attacks while he dodged mine just as easily. We had been practicing for hours, ever since the sun had gone down. I was surprised how quickly I caught on, once coming dangerously close to winning. It was well past midnight and we still fought as powerfully as warriors and graceful as doves. At one point, Warren managed to free a dagger from my hand which I used to reach up to his throat, not making contact with his skin. He froze and smiled. In the light of the outdoor fire pit he looked like a madman.

"You've got it," he said proudly.

"But to use my power would be cheating," I frowned.

"No more than a dragon using its fire." I lowered my hand and we both relaxed. "Confession is a natural gift that you should use at every opportunity you find in battle. Your foe will instantly fight for you instead of against."

"What about when the battle is over and they're free will is still lost?" I asked. "What then?"

"Then you can order the person to start a life of honest work. Confessors are not evil, Lydia, neither are their powers. The only accounts of darkness would be male confessors and one hasn't been born since Dennee Amnell's child."

"Still, I don't want to end up addicted to the power and go around confessing anyone who gives me a second glance."

Warren was about to answer, but a loud cracking in the distance made him freeze. A few birds nearby took off in flight.

"You may have to put you new skills to use sooner that I thought," he whispered.

I gripped my daggers with as much courage as I could muster. "Is there any reason for someone to come all this way to harm you?" I asked.

"Feidae's followers try," he said. "A few of the more devoted ones have come close."

He slowly took a step forward. I stepped to his side and in front of him. In a glance I told him that I was protecting him, not the other way around. But then everything was so silent. After a moment I had begun to think the noise was just the product of sleeplessness. But then an arrow whizzed through the air, headed for me. Warren pushed me to the side and leaned the opposite way himself so that the arrow passed between us without harm.

A tall man stepped out of the shadows and ran at them, swinging a long sword. I instantly raised my weapons and crossed them so that the oncoming sword was caught. Warren tried to get at the man, but he broke away from me in time to block him. He fought the both of us, back and forth, only being able to defend himself. But Warren was able to knock away the sword and tackled the man, holding him so that his arms were useless.

"Lydia, NOW!" he shouted.

I dropped my weapons and reached out, grabbing the intruder's throat. I felt my power leak from me into the man and his eyes turned black as his soul was herded into a cage. The connection was cut and I fell to the ground, suddenly feeling very weak and tired.

"Command me, confessor," the man whispered.

"Why did you try to kill the Seeker?" I asked, attempting to rise to my feet and failing without Warren's hand.

"I wanted to make the wizard proud," the man said. "He has helped me so much…but I see the error of my ways now, confessor. Can you ever forgive me?"

"We'll see," I said quietly.

"Let's go inside," Warren suggested. "I happen to know that neighbors here have trouble keeping their eyes forward."

I nodded and the three of us walked inside after putting out the fire and gathering our weapons. We had the man sit in a chair while Warren closed all the shades on the windows. When he finished he came over to stand by my side.

"Tell us," he said, "where did you come from?"

"The People's Palace in D'hara," he said quickly. "Feidae has been working had to make the ruins as strong as they once were. From there he commands his armies and all those who are loyal. The numbers are massive."

"Numbers mean nothing to me," Warren said lowly. "It just means that his human barrier is thicker than I expected. If there's any information that would be useful to me, you'd better tell me."

The man looked up at me expectantly. "Tell him," I ordered.

"Feidae plans to recreate the setting created by Darken Rahl with the legions at his command and a feared reputation, but Feidae plans to fix his mistakes by killing the Seeker before he is named. After that he will redouble his efforts."

Warren nodded to me and walked away.

"Leave this place," I ordered. "Leave this village and find yourself a new home far away from D'hara. There, you will start honest work, which means _no killing_. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, confessor," he said, bowing his head. he stood up and quickly walked out of the house. I looked to Warren who was standing silently in front of the fireplace, staring into it intently. His mind was hard at work.

"I must take up the sword," he said after a while. "With a tyrant such as Darken Rahl as his guide, Feidae will only become crueler and more powerful. I must kill him before he gets a chance to come into full power. As soon as Marcus returns, I will tell him all that happened. I'm confident that he will see things my way."

I nodded my agreement just before yawning tiredly. All that fighting plus a confession took a lot out of me.

"Take my bed," Warren said. "As soon as our quest begins there won't be many of those. You might as well enjoy it while you can."

"What about you?" I asked.

"I can't sleep," he shrugged. "Go ahead."

He got up to grab a bucket of water which he used to drown the fire. It died with a loud, angry hiss as the steam rose through the chimney. I got up from the chair and crossed the room over to the bed. I put my confessor's robes to the side which I had removed to practice in the black under dress. The second my head touched the pillow, I was asleep.

* * *

Marcus returned the next day and agreed with Warren, trusting his judgement. He began making preparations to name the Seeker immediately. At sundown, we gathered outside the house at a spot on the pathway that Marcus had chosen with care. Quite a few of the villagers stood at the base of the hill, eagerly watching. As the sun fell, Warren stood tall where Marcus told him while the wizard walked in a circle around him, chanting in a foreign language and scattering his tea leaves.

I gently grasped the sword of truth which Marcus had given to me to hold during the ceremony. As the wizard continued, Warren did the best he could not to smile at me. He could feel it as well as I could—the overwhelming excitement in the air that made the rest of the world slightly less important.

"Warren Godrick, though the road will be long and the outcome unknown, do you undertake this journey?"

"I will," said Warren.

"Will you leave behind all that you have known to face your quest?"

"I will."

"Though the bringing of your death has been sworn by the forces of evil, still, will you go on?"

"I will."

Marcus came over and took the sword from my hands. "Then will you accept the name of the Seeker?"

"I will," Warren said confidently.

Marcus lowered the blade into Warren's hands. As his skin made contact with the steel, a kind of absolute sureness quieted the excitement in the air.

"Then I, first wizard, Marcus Cypher, so name you!"

He lowered his head and his hand in a kind of bow and the circle of tea leaves that he had dropped caught fire, circling around the Seeker. The sun had completely disappeared and the storm clouds that had been created were barely visible except for the cracking thunder and lightning which bolted down to the sword of truth. I watched in awe fascination as Warren was named the Seeker.


End file.
